


The Paraoia

by writer_interrupted



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Other, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_interrupted/pseuds/writer_interrupted
Summary: Just like a background story for my Trevelyan





	The Paraoia

Avery Trevelyan can hear them snigger behind her when she leaves the path, and bends down to carefully collect the flowers of a blood lotus, again. She is well aware that they called her names behind her back, the Alchemist or Alky, she detested it, and was pretty sure Sera was behind that one, but she was running so low on ingredients she could not just ignore the plants she needed to avoid setting off another outburst of sniggering. It was becoming more common that someone, Sera mostly, would shout out a plant’s name, correct of not, amidst laughter if they noticed one before her, or make comments about how they needed to stop for spindleweed, and always stop for elfroot, that particular one being shouted across the tavern for comedic effect, and becoming increasingly popular. Varric was innocent of this one at least, the dwarf mostly called her Templar, and did that to her face.  
She slowly rises and brushes down her trousers. Most herbs have been picked by the locals and the few healers who remained here, but with so many bandits in the hills remote parts still had places where no one braved to go. Untouched herbs could still be found, their leaves and flowers, and most importantly stems and roots all intact. This charade was becoming more and more tedious and exhausting, but there was no respite from it, it will have to continue. She could not use Skyhold’s gardens, the apothecary would quickly notice what was going missing, so she had to obtain plants herself, and giving most of her finds to the apothecary, most, provided a convenient alibi. Inquisition forces were instructed to collect plants on their own, and so a nice alibi was supported by an even nicer herb flow.  
Sera was nothing to worry about, the elf was not interested in how potions were made, what went in them, as long as no incantations were spoken during the distillation process, she could not care less, and her ignorance was comforting. The Inquisitor could easily put up with Sera’s annoying comments for a bit of this soothing ignorance, and that is why she was here. Varrik on the other hand…the dwarf had many friends from different backgrounds, and by his own admission he drank with Templars and had lively discussions with mages, plus he spent 10 years in the company of that healer, now an infamous mage, who ran a clinic, and helped with all kinds of matters, and so he could be dangerous, he could know why she needs the stems and roots or he just decide to put her and her private matters in a book, he had written so much about his friends in the past. And Cole, whatever he was, she did not dare take him on excursions in case he focused on her mind and exposed her thoughts. It was because of him that the party knew some pretty private stuff about Dorian, and it would be so easy for him to get hung up on her fear, that fear that twisted her insides and made her feel as if her life was slipping away, running through her fingers like silk ribbons, and there is nothing she could do about it; and so Cole stayed in Skyhold, tending to the weak and injured, healing pilgrims, and causing havoc in the kitchens. An incredible waste, but she could see no other solution than to avoid him.  
Now if she could only compose herself, return to the rest, and start a neutral conversation. She walked back slowly, they already knew where to find the outlaws, and there was no point rushing, they would never reach the fortress before dusk, and she wanted Sera to scout and get an idea about the mercenary forces. They could slow down, maybe not enjoy the journey, but maybe just relax a bit. She looked at the trio awaiting her return, and at Blackwall who was not turning his gaze away this time; uncertainty tightly grasped her stomach. Why did she chose him to accompany her again?  
Trevelyan hoped that Cassandra never gave the whole thing a second thought and just believed that all this herb collecting was to benefit Inquisition’s agents and soldiers, and so far it looked like that was the case, and in Cassandra’s eyes she was benevolent and selfless. The warrior’s mind was mostly focused on just a-one-thing, the task at hand, and at times Trevelyan wondered if she ever allowed it to wander. Cassandra was safe, and even if she did not like Sera’s company, they were the two who accompanied her the most. Now, the Iron Bull, she was pretty sure he figured it all out that time the party noticed that she pulled out elfroot with its roots instead of just collecting the leaves, but he did not care, and she was confident he would not share his insights with anyone. After all, this must be common practice under the qun, and should not be controversial for the qunari, this probably does not shock nor raise any questions for him. As for Blackwall, well he was a relatively new addition to the party, and she hoped that he still thought, much like Cassandra, that this was all to benefit the Inquisition, but the way he looked at her just now, when she was stuffing petals into her bag. It made her uneasy. She preferred him nervous, not able to look her in the eyes, exposing the fact that he is hiding something. She made a habit of not avoiding people’s gaze, it just drew suspicion, much like it drew her suspicions to Blackwall, but still, it was disconcerting, as if something in his mind clicked, and he would not avert his gaze as he usually did, and she no longer felt safe picking up herbs. She will continue, stopping now would be too suspicious, but her gut would twist now every time. Maybe, if she collects large amounts of plants not useful to her, maybe Blackwall will just need to be left worrying about the Grey Wardens in the stables, maybe finding out what he is hiding can give her leverage, maybe following up on the Grey Wardens will establish some feeling of loyalty. She will need to find out why he was looking at her like that. She dare not tackle the issue head on.  
Sera can never keep her mouth shut, she shouts towards Avery as she is walking towards the group.  
\- More elfroot? - Sera’s grin was threatening to split her face.  
\- You know what elfroot looks like, Sera. The tall, green plant? No flowers? Does not grow in shallow water? You know, the one which was stolen from apothecary storage and stuffed under my duvet, into my drawers, and pillows by some menacing still-at-large prankster. – She smiled knowingly - I got some blood lotus.  
Dorian chuckled, and although it seemed impossible for Sera’s smile to get larger, it now occupied an even larger part of the elf’s face.  
\- So what is this one for? Some ointment to make wounds close faster?  
\- The apothecary will make of it what they fell is in most demand, I really cannot say, but it will be put to good use, I am sure – Trevelyan focused on the area in front of them, assessing possible threats and hideouts  
\- I am just asking, geez. My feet are in agony, and my blisters have blisters, such a thing would just be useful – she threw in her direction, walking towards Dorian.  
The mages were the ones she worried about the most, Vivienne especially, although she doubted Vivienne ever distilled anything herself, she probably could tell straight away why petals of a Blood Lotus, roots of elfroot, and stems of rashvine were so valuable to her, why she always picked up the whole plant instead of just the leaves, and so Vivienne was asked to help Josephine, under the excuse that her political connections and knowledge of etiquette would be of more help than her magic in scraps with outlaws and some undead. Dorian she was not sure about, whenever he did speak about magic in Tevinter it seemed that no training in practical alchemy was given, but he was so proud of his education and such a bookworm, it was inconceivable that he should only read historical accords, he must have trailed volumes for spells and magical crap, and most likely looked for some rare or unusual potions at some point and could have stumbled upon this common recipe, and so he was dangerous for her secretive matters, but Dorian was a fire mage. He once fried a whole group of enemy archers before her and Blackwall even managed to reach them, all 6 of them in one terrifying blaze, as they reached the group all the two warriors had left to do was to put the heavily armed marauders out of their misery, and listen to Varric gasp for breath and words in astonishment. “This is why people fear mages!” was the only thing that the dwarf was able to say for a good 15 minutes. Too valuable to leave behind, too many Venatori kicking about for him to stay in Skyhold, too little for him to do there to provide a convenient excuse, and so he often joined her. As for Solas, he was probably the most convenient to take, but she did not like the way he looked at her, the way he smirked, as if he knew something, as if he could, better than herself, tell what consequences her decisions would have, and as if he took pleasure in withholding knowledge. She will need to get closer to him soon, talk about the Fade, and what he can see there, is it just the past, or can he see the present, her present, her nightmares too? How much access does he have, does he know? She was particularly proud of finding something for Solas to do, was mostly asked to accompany them to examine the location in the Fade, and report on his findings, battlefield or ruin, he was given guards, went to sleep and later reported on his findings, that is where he was right now, in some ruins scout Harding reported on.  
Any feelings of the need to dismiss her doubts and paranoia were quickly dismissed, it has not been that long that she knew these people, and they maybe have heard rumours. Josephine had asked her about her family, and the records from that conversation were widely known, she did all she could not to raise suspicion and protect herself, but she had a feeling she did not do as well as she would have liked. The dreaded question about the fact that her father gave the titles and lands to her younger sister did come up, but she would not answer, not truthfully. The title of a wayward heir clung to her back home, and she did not think it could go differently here, and she needed to use all her cunning and charm, and anything she had at her disposal to protect her privacy.  
It is not that what she was doing was in any way illegal per say, it was that for a woman of her standing, of her family and associated responsibilities, her chosen lifestyle was frowned upon, unimaginable for most. She was avoiding innate responsibilities, and thus disrespecting the whole family. These plants was why her younger sister became the heir, and she became a piece of furniture in their home. No one paid her any more attention. And that was why she went to the Conclave, this was supposed to be an opportunity to make something of herself, to find a different path, Maker only knew that after 3 years of being ignored she was glad to obtain her father’s permission to leave, even if the day she left felt more like if she was finally being cast out. They were eager to get rid of her, she just never before knew that was the case, is this how Dorian felt? Is this why he joined them?  
She turned her head and looked at Dorian, and the longer she looked the more desperate to trust someone she felt, just for a friend she could drink with and not watch what she says. The cast-away mage had problems making friends himself. Desperation is not a good advisor.  
Now, if she could only find some elfroot she would be set, but it was becoming scarce as useless embrium was becoming more abundant in the area. She could feel Blackwall’s gaze burning a hole in the back of her head. She focused on the road ahead, those outlaws will not behead themselves.


End file.
